Fallout
by SGAFan
Summary: John Sheppard disobeyed direct orders in Afghanistan. Just how did he manage to stay in the Air Force in spite of it? SPOILERS FOR SGA 3x09: PHANTOMS! K PLUS for mild profanity.


**Afghanistan - 2003**

**----------- **

"Major Sheppard! Get your ass in here!"

John winced before opening the door to Colonel Shipley's office. He entered quietly and stood at rigid attention as the colonel stared harshly at him, rage evident on his face but oddly enough it was mixed with disappointment.

"Damn it, Sheppard!" Shipley shook his head and stalked around his desk to stand toe to toe with John. "What the hell were you thinking?"

_Court Martial._ John stared evenly back. _Okay, _he admitted silently, _that's what I'm thinking now... well that and I've__got nothing to lose… _ "We don't leave people behind… sir."

Shipley glared at him for one more moment before stepping behind him, grabbing the door and slamming it hard. He stalked back and stood only inches in front of John. "You disobeyed a direct order. MY direct order! Damn it, Major, you're a hell of a pilot and a soldier. For that, I gave you your head! Let you bend the rules some, but not now! Not this time!" Shipley turned away and strode behind his desk. "You got shot down in enemy territory, lost your chopper and I had to send a SF unit in to rescue your sorry ass when I should've left you sitting on it!"

John stood quietly, fortifying his mask and hiding his anger behind it. _Damn rules… Damn politicians! _They didn't care. Not the way he did. Abandoning Holland or anyone to die alone in the desert went against everything John believed in.

"Well?" Shipley's voice was slightly calmer. "Do you have anything to say, Major?"

John stared evenly back. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Shipley sighed loudly. "It's never easy with you, is it?" He waved his hand. "Granted, since you'll probably do it anyway and you're in enough trouble as it is. At ease, Major. I'm listening."

John relaxed his stance slightly and gripped his hands behind his back. "With all due respect, sir, Holland was my friend. I wasn't going to sit here and let him die out there while a bunch of pansy assed politicians discussed 'extraction scenarios.' You and I both know they would've talked it to death and finally written him off as MIA." John swallowed hard. "Holland deserved better… and so did his wife."

Shipley stared hard at him. "He's still dead, Sheppard."

John squeezed his eyes shut and looked away; the memory of Holland bleeding to death in his arms, still fresh in his memory.

"Aw, hell," Shipley sighed loudly.

John looked up as something akin to respect blanketed Shipley's face.

"Off the record…" He pointed at John, "and if I ever hear of you repeating this to anyone, I _will_ hand you your ass, got it?" Shipley's brow quirked. "Off the record, ten years ago and in your place I probably would've done the same thing." He sighed loudly. "Sheppard… and don't let this go to the cocky head of yours, you have a real gift for leadership and you're probably one of the best pilots I've ever seen. You're a damn good solider, and if you don't believe me, take a look at your chest candy sometime." Shipley walked back to John, but this time his expression was calmer. "I know you don't have any use for rules, but someday, you might find yourself in a command position and you'll realize why the rules are there. I don't expect you'll ever follow all of them, but you might find yourself following a fair amount of them." His mouth quirked as a cynical smile flashed over it. "And god help us when that day comes."

John shrugged. "Somehow I don't think a court martial leads to promotion and a command, sir."

Shipley walked back behind his desk and slowly sat down. He leaned back in his chair and stared up at John. "There's not going to be a court martial."

John's eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"Oh yeah, the UCMJ has specific procedures for disobeying a direct order, but I've already given my recommendation to the command general." Shipley smiled. "We're old Desert Storm buddies, he'll listen to me… off the record. Generals usually get their way, Sheppard. You should know that by now."

John blinked once, then again, the shock of what he was hearing stealing his voice. He'd resigned himself to a court martial and spending the better part of his life at Leavenworth the instant he went after Holland.

"Don't think I've ever seen you speechless, Major," Shipley clasped his hands on his lap. "Son, you've done some damn fine stuff in your career and you didn't do this for some macho bravado, you did it to save a man in trouble." He stared John in the eye. "That goes a long way in my book."

"Then I…" John started, finally able to find his voice.

"Don't think for a second you're getting off scotch free in this, Sheppard!" Shipley interrupted loudly.

John swallowed and stiffened slightly. "No sir!"

"You're being transferred." Shipley stated plainly. "To McMurdo."

John's mind raced, trying to place the base's location. His gaze narrowed. "Antarctica?"

Shipley stared neutrally back at him. "It's either that or the court martial. Your choice."

_Some choice…_ "Sounds… brisk, sir." John grimaced slightly.

Shipley stood. "You're going to be cooling that hotshot butt of yours there for a long time, Major," he stated plainly, "I'd take that time to think about things."

Gratitude and relief swept through John. Colonel Shipley had been a hard ass from the beginning, but of all the CO's John ever had, he liked Shipley the best. The man always gave John room to be the officer that he was and next to Holland dying, disobeying Shipley bothered John the most. He snapped a salute. "Yes, sir!"

Shipley returned the salute and John dropped his arm. He nodded once at his CO. "Thank you, sir."

Shipley smiled slightly. "Dismissed."

John turned towards the door only to be stopped by Shipley's voice.

"Major?"

He turned back and stared hard at the colonel's somber expression.

"You ever do something like this again and all the chest candy in the world won't save you. Your ass will be grass and the USAF the lawnmower, son." He arched a brow. "Fair warning."

John nodded slightly, the message loud and clear: this was his one and only second chance. "Yes, sir." Without another word, he turned and exited the office. Walking down the long hallway, he could feel the desert heat in spite of the marginally conditioned cool air that blew down the hallway. _Antarctica_, he mused silently. _Sound interesting. _

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_This was a boomerang plot bunny that I flung at a friend and it came back and stuck to me! LOL_

_I always wondered how John got out a court martial for disobeying a direct order to rescue Holland. ;)_


End file.
